


That Lonesome Song

by MotleyMoose



Series: The Ranch Imagines [5]
Category: The Ranch
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Also the drinking, F/M, Gen, Super Freaking Angsty, Watch out for the language too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:07:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotleyMoose/pseuds/MotleyMoose
Summary: Beau Bennett tries to mend fences with Maggie.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Half of the songs on Jamey Johnson's album "The Lonesome Song" went into writing this fic.
> 
> Also the fact that there are like two fics for this fandom, and both of them are Colt x Rooster, which makes me feel squicky. So, yeah, I kinda had to write this. And because hellooooo, this show is basically what it was like growing up on a farm, minus the laugh track.

Thirteen days.

It had been thirteen _fucking_ days since Maggie had taken the boys and gone to her parents' place in Cañon City.

It had also been almost that long since Beau Bennett had been sober. Sure, there were the first couple of days after she'd left him that he had woken up with a hangover strong enough to kill a horse, but now he had a solid drunk going. As long as the beer and the whiskey didn't stop flowing, it was unlikely he was going to feel anything for a while.

He hoped he wouldn't feel anything, anyway.

Sprawled out on the couch, Beau squinted blearily at the rough-hewn ceiling beams as he tried to stop the room from spinning. It'd been late when he had gotten in from doing chores, but that hadn't stopped him from finishing off a half a case of Bud and a couple snifters of Jim before passing out in his coveralls on the worn-out sofa. Going to bed drunk was one thing, but waking up... that was a little harder on the senses.

Rolling onto his side, Beau fumbled with the beer box he had shoved under the coffee table.

Empty. _Goddammit..._

He heaved himself into a mostly upright position and dug around in the couch.

 _Bingo_.

Pulling a Tall Boy from between the cushions, Beau cracked it open and began gulping the warm beer down like a dehydrated man to water. It wasn't going to clear out a hangover completely, but it was just enough to get him going on breakfast.  
..........  
After a slapped-together PB&J and a cold shower, Beau was up and going, an Irish coffee sloshing in the thermos stuck down the front of his coveralls. Cows were starting to holler, and the forecast was calling for snow later in the morning, so he plugged in the tractor battery first thing. The old Allis-Chalmers was a bitch to start when it was cold, but warming up the battery beforehand usually cut down on the cussing and wrench throwing.

Once he was able to turn the engine over on the tractor, he set to work filling feeders and stacking hay for windbreaks. Colorado winters could be fierce, and he tried to do anything he could do to protect the herd from the gusting wind.

There was something about the routine of feeding and stacking bales that put thoughts of Maggie and the boys to the back of his mind. The monotonous sounds of the tractor coupled with driving almost the same exact path back and forth put him into a zen-like state. Not that he believed in that meditative hippy bullshit. But it _was_ kinda nice not feeling guilty for a bit.

The whole fucking mess _was_ all his damn fault, not doubt about it, but he wasn't going to own up to it.

Especially not to Maggie.

Cursing himself, Beau stopped the tractor just outside the gate and pulled the thermos from his coveralls. Taking a swig of the cooling liquid, he forced himself to make a list of all the other things he needed to get done before the storm hit.

It wasn't easy, but Beau was stubborn like that. Once he put his mind to something, he sure as hell wasn't going to let up on it until he saw it through.

Even if that meant that he was going to be sleeping alone for the foreseeable future.

"Fuuuck," he breathed, his mustache bristling as the anger and the hurt began to unfurl inside his chest. He took another long pull off the thermos, twisted the cap on, and put the tractor back into gear. There wasn't time to waste mulling over his feelings when shit needed to be done. He was going to have to wait until the evening to drown his heartbreak.  
...............  
"Hello?"

No amount of booze could numb the pain he felt hearing her voice. "Hey, Maggie," Beau murmured into the receiver, his free hand twirling his glass on the table top. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels stood uncapped in front of him.

"Beau? What... Are you drunk?" Maggie asked, her voice shaking in anger. "I told you not to call here."

Sighing heavily, Beau closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get a handle on his thoughts. He took another sip of whiskey before speaking. "Come back, Mags. I miss you so... so much." His voice cracked as he held back the emotion bubbling up in his throat. "Please, baby. Come home."

There was a long, drawn out silence. Beau wasn't sure if she was still on the other end of the line. He opened his mouth to repeat himself when Maggie finally spoke up.

"How dare you. How fucking _dare_ you call and beg me to come back," she spat, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Goddammit, Beau. I _fucking told you_ we weren't coming home 'til you straightened your shit out." She paused, her breath coming out in quick, angry bursts that made the receiver crackle.

"Just... I love you, baby. Please," he slurred. The glass lay on its side, lazily rocking back and forth on the scuffed tabletop. His free hand was fisted in his hair as he tried to hold it together.

"Don't you pull that bullshit on me, Beau. It ain't gonna work this time."

Biting back a sob, Beau tried a different tactic. "Can I at least talk to the boys?"

Maggie cursed before relenting. "Fine. Just. Be quick."

There was a muffled holler followed by a scuffling sound. "Hey, Daddy!" Rooster shouted excitedly into the phone. "Whatcha doin'? Gammy's takin' us to see Santa! Papa's ear thingy isn't hearing, so we have to talk real loud at him. Did Whiskers have her kittens yet?"

Smiling crookedly, Beau scrubbed at his eyes before answering the slew of preschooler speak. "No kittens yet, but she's getting close. I'm just sitting down to dinner. Have you been a good boy? Don't want Santa leaving coal in your stocking!" He liked to tease his boys; it was his way of showing them affection, something his father never seemed to do. Shaking his head, Beau returned his focus to his son's rambling story.

"... And then Colt fell into the feed bunk and the steers spooked! But Papa said it was okay cuz the kitties always get in there huntin' mice. Oh, and me an' Mama an' Gammy made cookies while Colt and Papa took a nap. Don't tell Colt, but Gammy let me lick the spoon!" Rooster giggled conspiratorially, and Beau felt his heart swell with love. "Oh! Colt wantsta talk to you, Daddy. _Lovyabyee_!"

There was a thump and a shriek as the two youngsters fought over the receiver. Finally, the youngest Bennet picked up the phone. "Hi, Daddy. When we gonna go home?"

Beau's heart skipped a beat as his drunken brain scrambled for an answer. "I-uh. When your mama's done at Gammy and Papa's, bud."

Colt sniffled on the other end. "M'kay. Daddy?"

"Yeah, Colt?"

"I miss Whiskers an' Bones an' Misty an' all my toys an' riding on the tractor an' feedin' cows." Colt stopped, and Beau could hear him fidgeting with the phone cord. "Hey, Daddy. Will Santa Clause know where we're at if we don't go home on Christmas?"

Laughing quietly, Beau nodded. "Santa will find you, don't you worry. Do you think he'll pass up filling your stocking full of coal?"

Giggling, Colt chided his father. "Oh, Daddy! I'm not gettin' coal! You're gettin' the coal!"

Beau started to chuckle when Maggie's voice came across the line. "Okay, get on to bed, Colt. I need to talk to your daddy some more."

Colt said a hasty goodbye, and Beau was once again fighting off the hurt in his chest. "Listen, Mags, I-"

She cut him off. "We'll talk about this when you're sober." There was another silence in the long string of silences that was becoming their conversations. Finally, Maggie exhaled into the mouthpiece. "Take care of yourself, Beau."

 _Click_.

Beau sat that for several minutes with the phone's receiver dangling from his hand. After a while, he stretched and replaced it in its cradle before standing and scrubbing at his face with his hands. Grabbing the the neck of the whiskey bottle, he shuffled into the living room and sank into the couch. Taking a long pull straight from the bottle, Beau closed his eyes and tried to forget Maggie's harsh words. He knew he needed to sober up, even if just for a little while, to get her to come back to the ranch.

Holding the Jack Daniels bottle at arms length, he squinted at it for a moment before leaning forward and setting it on the coffee table. He stood back up and looked around at the pyramids of cans and the mountain of dirty dishes and the clothes he had strewn about the place. Nodding resolutely, he began to weave his way into his bedroom.

No doubt about it, he was a stubborn man. And once he put his mind to it, Beau Bennett could do anything. Even if that meant he was going to have to survive one hell of a hangover in the morning.


End file.
